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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740056">wager your heart and sanity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmasiv/pseuds/dmasiv'>dmasiv</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hinatazaka46 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:15:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmasiv/pseuds/dmasiv</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly against.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Everyone/Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wager your heart and sanity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nao mistook it for admiration in the first few years, but she finally had her moment of epiphany somewhere down the road. </p><p> </p><p>It was nothing novel, Miku had her arms around her as groupmates and <em> maybe </em>friends if Nao’s overactive imagination was allowed to be generous. But it felt great, comforting, and it sent her above forty degrees celsius.</p><p> </p><p>It could also be that she was high off having the crown of The Center lifted off her head, but there was something in the way Miku stroked her hair as she whispered to Nao everything she dreamed to hear. <em> You’ve worked so hard </em>, and on better days, Nao would’ve seen it as Miku just having the decency of being nice, but Nao was a soul spent and battered all over. She sobbed harder into the crook of Miku’s neck and Miku held her tighter (maybe). Everything felt perfect in her personal reimagination of the scene. </p><p> </p><p>The worst part of it was that it gave her an ample amount of confidence. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I drop by your place?” Nao said, after work. The eyes of the second generation members around them grew to the size of flying saucers.</p><p> </p><p>Miku looked back at her - as a groupmate, or maybe as a friend. “Everyone’s always welcome.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Akari was simply too nice of a person. Miku both liked and disliked that part of her.</p><p> </p><p>In turn, everyone orbited around her like there would be no second coming of a Nibu Akari for another hundred years. She was such a comforting presence even <em> Kosaka </em> could easily tell her her deepest darkest secrets. Realistically speaking, no one should be allowed to be <em> that </em> nice, but Akari’s existence itself tempted the line between <em> barely realistic </em> and <em> straight-up comical </em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow, ow, wait, gimme a minute, a - a second! <em> Ow </em>!” </p><p> </p><p>Miku twisted her body around, but it couldn’t shake Akari’s iron grip around her shoulders off.</p><p> </p><p>“See! I’m saying, you need a massage, and like, a vacation.”</p><p> </p><p>“A <em> vacation </em>,” Miku parroted.</p><p> </p><p>Akari started it with a contemplative hum. “Sometimes I feel like you're being too hard on yourself. I dunno. Could be just me. Could be just everyone in the room. Could also be <em> just </em>what your fans said under your Twitter tag.”</p><p> </p><p>She felt another couple of kneads on her shoulders and she let out another inhumane yelp.</p><p> </p><p>Then, Akari’s palms traveled up to her cheeks. “You’ve gotten so thin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Yes </em>, really, Ms. Ambitious!” And Akari lightly pinched her cheeks. And -</p><p> </p><p>And Miku hoped that her skin was thick enough for the warmth setting her cheeks on fire to go unnoticed by Akari.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Akari had her first exchange of names with Manamo, she thought the older girl held some kind of animosity towards her. She derived this thought from the way Manamo had her eyes on her the most. And truthfully, Akari wasn’t used to being disliked.</p><p> </p><p>For the record, Manamo was staring at her. <em> Again </em>. Akari stared back, in squinty eyes double the intensity until Manamo decided, two minutes was enough (or too much) as she disentangled their gazes. </p><p> </p><p>And Manamo broke into a smile, the kind that sent Akari into a theatrical reaction reminiscent of someone getting struck by a lightning bolt. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until one fateful evening where Manamo looked so beat by their live show preparation and Akari volunteered to walk her home that they could finally straighten things out between them. When she ran out of funny stories to share, she laid it all out to Manamo in the intersection where they parted ways, “Uh, I kinda, noticed that you’ve been looking at me. I mean, that’s okay. But like, in case there’s stuff you want to say!”</p><p> </p><p>“I was about to say the same.” Manamo did a curt nod before she walked away. “But I don’t mind. See you tomorrow, Akari.”</p><p> </p><p>Manamo was on the other side of the road now while Akari stood unmoving, waiting for the lightning bolt to strike. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m the one who’s been staring?! </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Manamo had threatrics for a mind and steel case for a head. Tucked behind five layers of passcodes all with different combinations. This would prove to come in handy somewhere down the road; she had practically mentally-composed a thesis on Matsuda Konoka’s character all for <em> personal consumption </em>.</p><p> </p><p>To be fair, she was in her early 20’s and like everyone else hitting that period of time in life, she badly needed an object to hyperfixate onto. So, she took interest in the fine details of Matsuda Konoka’s struggle against worldly limits:</p><p> </p><p>Matsuda Konoka carefully plotted every of her actions. Manamo noticed the way her face would scrunch up for a split second when things didn’t go as planned. </p><p> </p><p>Matsuda Konoka had this catastrophic tendency to review the lessons more than anyone else in the room. Sometimes Manamo wished she could stay behind and observe her up close without looking too conspicuous for an omniscient observer. But alas.</p><p> </p><p>Matsuda Konoka kept tabs on literally everyone. The one time Manamo had too little sleep to function accordingly during practice, Matsuda Konoka had walked up to her with some kind of a warm honey lemon concoction in a thermos. </p><p> </p><p>(Manamo had taken a slow, measured sip. “I was sure nobody would notice - should I be worried?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re good. I just happen to be a veteran worrywart.” Konoka replied, with a smile that was in every way dashing.)</p><p> </p><p>She broke the rule one fine afternoon where they kissed. Because Manamo was <em> curious </em>, and Matsuda Konoka was a challenger by design. </p><p> </p><p>They never brought it up ever in the coming days because Manamo was an observer with a mental thesis on hand; totally not because Manamo was dreadfully afraid of rejection.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It took Suzuka calling her a stuck-up bitch for Konoka to say something she regretted half a moment later as she stomped away from the scene. </p><p> </p><p>Admittedly, she said something thrice worse to Suzuka. It was probably <em> so </em>bad that Sarina and Mana, who were just passing by for the restroom to pause in their tracks and throw a fleet of questioning looks to the rest of the second generation members. Konoka had checked left and right for a nearby facial reconstruction surgery pop-up clinic to save her from the embarrassment of getting worked up over stage directions, found no solace, and slithered away as a last resort.</p><p> </p><p>Fighting over <em> stage directions </em> . What had transpired could be the start of something, ranging from becoming a defining moment for their <em> friendship </em>to a graduation blog post. Of her. </p><p> </p><p>She was being dramatic, <em> but </em>. She was balled up in a corner of the backstage. No healthy state of mind could come out of this set-up.</p><p> </p><p>She buried her face deeper into her crossed arms.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,”</p><p> </p><p>Konoka heard a voice that wasn’t the voice in her head beating her up for being a thoughtless piece of shit and she whipped her head <em> fast </em>. It hit the chin of the person before her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” she stared at Suzuka before her, flat on her ass. <em> Strike two, Konoka </em>, “sorry, god, I didn’t - ”</p><p> </p><p>“No worries, um, just checking up on you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I should be the one checking up on <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. I swear I didn’t mean any of it.” Suzuka’s grin was uneven, jagged, loopy <em> and </em>plain stupid. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh god, no, I should be the one apologizing. I’m the older one for fuck’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, we’re all tired. I shouldn’t have riled you up.” Suzuka scooted closer and offered a panacea to the situation at hand: a handkerchief with cartoon duck prints. “I know you don’t like it when people catch you crying, so like, you can use this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like it when you catch me crying either.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s just me.” Next, Suzuka offered her a shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Konoka took the shoulder willingly as she cried into the handkerchief. In return, she offered Suzuka her heart.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Miho, fuck, stop scrolling Twitter and listen to <em> me </em>,”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> am </em>, dearest <em>Suzie</em>. I don’t scroll with ears.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. I’m gonna go over from the top.”</p><p> </p><p>“I AM listening, you insecure piece of - ”</p><p> </p><p>“So like, I’ve got a friend. Stop giving me a dirt look, I-I’ve got another friend that isn’t you or Konoka.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who?”</p><p> </p><p>“A friend. <em> M, my </em>friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Anyway </em>. This friend of mine’s been interested in this girl, but like, she isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Sharp as a rubber. You get?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, so like, this girl just wouldn’t get it. My friend’s done everything - they’re usually more of a private person. They tour cafes alone. Also kinda particular when it comes to personal space, but they wouldn’t mind this girl’s stuff cluttering their space.”</p><p> </p><p>“You still tour cafes alone? Me and Konoka are one LINE call away.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I like it that - no. No. It’s my <em> friend </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sheesh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, my friend can never tell what’s on this girl’s mind. She’d... <em> steal </em> their stuff to wear. She looked cute with their cap on. She looked good with her - <em> their </em> jacket, you know, because it’d be two sizes too big for her, so she’d look extra small, like, my <em> friend </em>said she’d look like she could fit under their chin.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what you’re into?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait. Look. Your yearning escapade can wait another day. This account is reposting Hina’s past pictures with her ex and the tweet’s making rounds.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shit. I’m mass-reporting it with my accounts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Good luck, soldier.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>To Hina, Hiyori was a steadfast friend with a knack for (Hina-)mind-reading. At least, Hina knew no one understood her more than Hiyori did. She set Hina on an uneven rise of excitement - and worse was Hiyori’s display of patience. They would then take life on very slowly while everyone else raced for something. </p><p> </p><p>Hina would’ve considered Hiyori a soulmate had it not been for the fact that they were both just, <em> not </em>gay.</p><p> </p><p>But Hiyori was just seamlessly made for <em> her </em>. Hina would walk up to her saying the absolute most out of the world bullshit that only someone twelve shots in would even begin to think, and Hiyori would know what to follow it up with.</p><p> </p><p>So, when Hiyori took some time off the group, Hina felt her absence the most.</p><p> </p><p>She’d find her favorite brand of yoghurt placed near her bag and for a short second mistook the deed to be done by Hiyori when it was Mirei in her stead.</p><p> </p><p>In the van, her head would bob onto someone’s shoulder as she doze off. She’d wake up mistaking Suzuka for Hiyori.</p><p> </p><p>The weather had gotten colder. Ayaka took her hand and slipped it into her coat’s pocket and Hina found herself thinking, <em> yeah, Hiyotan does this a lot. </em></p><p> </p><p>Hiyori had always been one LINE message away, but it was never easy for Hina to answer Hiyori’s <em> how was the recording? </em> with anything beyond <em> Mirei-san treated me to snacks today </em>.</p><p> </p><p>What she typed, at first, was, <em> I look for you in everyone </em> . She sent another <em> just the usual </em>.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Hiyori had always found Miho to be <em> so fucking cool </em>.</p><p> </p><p>If Akari was their heart, Miho was their head. When they were still wholly green, Miho was the one most proactive; volunteered to be the bridge between the two batches of generation, and jumped head first into befriending Shiho-san past all the proverbial layers of ice hiding the first gens.</p><p> </p><p>To deduce from her history of mastering virtually everything she had tried her hands on, one would think Miho was a prototype of a demigod.</p><p> </p><p>Until the follow-up <em> until </em> came in the most unexpected freeze frame of a moment. Hiyori just happened to chance upon Miho taking her position for <em> Azatokawaii </em>in the ugliest way.</p><p> </p><p>“I must become something cute,” Miho said, sharp-toothed to her own reflection. A girl of skin and bones with only half the muscles stared back at her. The light to the restroom flickered with menace.</p><p> </p><p>Beside her, Hiyori rinsed her hands.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re,” Hiyori started, locking eyes with her own reflection and fighting the urge to laugh at how deadly serious she looked, “you’re the cutest when you act like you’re the best guy for the job.”</p><p> </p><p>Miho laughed, then sobbed to the sound of the running water.</p><p> </p><p>In short: Hiyori learned how to recognize Miho in her moment of weaknesses, stayed behind to listen to her wail in all her ugliness. Held Miho’s hand when her legs grew too weak to uphold someone with dreams too huge for a person.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Miho couldn’t decide whether she resented Nao or <em> liked </em>liked her instead. </p><p> </p><p>Well, she didn’t like her at first.</p><p> </p><p>It was only in her nature as someone who put quadruple the effort in everything that mattered to resent Kosaka Nao, who lived blessed with everything virtuous and looked like she had been actually counting her blessings until she lost track of the numbers, but never the feeling of gratitude. </p><p> </p><p>It pissed Miho off exactly because she couldn’t bring herself to fully harbor resentment towards Kosaka Nao. She was just… <em> doing her best </em>.</p><p> </p><p>It pissed Miho off to see Kosaka Nao acting like she never wanted the center position when Miho would commit a manslaughter for it. She resisted the urge to scream at her, <em> stand tall, you dimwit, be proud of it. So that I won’t feel like shit. </em></p><p> </p><p>It pissed Miho even more that Kosaka Nao <em> needed </em>her. Relied on her for being the first person in the group to chat her up. To invite her to the second generations-only LINE group chat. To walk her home. To take her to a cafe after the recording was deemed a wrap. To go on an Osaka trip with her. To be introduced personally to her family.</p><p> </p><p>But nothing felt worse to Miho than becoming an afterthought, so it felt great to be a go-to.</p><p> </p><p>“Miho,” Nao went up to her in slightly skipping steps, “there’s an, um a <em> dinosaur </em> -themed cafe opening up. And, I mean <em> only </em>when you’re absolutely, undeniably free - ”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure. Sunday?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>started writing most of this months ago during my hellish internship to keep me Sane</p><p>as a 1st gen supremacist i tried it w/ 1st gens at first before realizing that mei is incapable of feeling affection in a human way and kyoko is just, so heterosexual it borders on internalized homophobia</p></blockquote></div></div>
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